A Case of Pride and Prejudice
by xmfan
Summary: Poto SH crossover, slightly AU. Being the daughter of a disfigured genius and a dull witted opera singer was never easy for Angelique or her sisters. But things are about to get more . . . interesting when a certain detective comes to town.
1. Prologue

Hey there! Long time no seek! Yeah, yeah, been gone forever, now feel really awkward about starting a new fic. Many people are probably not going to read it anyway. Oh well. Because I love the story so much, I'm doing my own little parody of "Pride and Prejudice" with characters from PotO, Sherlock Holmes, one or two from other stories related to one of them, and my own characters that relate to either one story or the other. Some of the original characters in this story are characters I'm using in another story I'm in the process of writing. That, however, will probably not show up for a while. Anyway, to the disclaimer:

I do not own any Phantom or Sherlock Holmes characters, nor do I own the plot to Pride and Prejudice. Kudos go to Leroux, Doyle, and Austen. You guys are awesome. I also do not own several of the names that I am giving to places and buildings. I do make them up to a point, but they are inspired by names of things that already exist.

I do, however, own the original characters. There are one or two that I don't particularly care about, but in general, please don't take my characters. You got that? No touchy.

(Warning: Family trees are going to be pretty mucked up by this end of this story. Please do not take this to heart. Repeat to yourself, "It is only fan fiction, it is only fan fiction ...)

And now, ladies and gents, I give you Pride and Prejudice . . . my own twisted version.

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Prologue

Thought you were gonna just dive right in, eh? Well, this is an AU story with a lot of family tree confusion, so I'll just lay out the setting for you so you can settle in.

Erik is the son of Charles Noir, the son of a stone mason who inherited a gentleman's fortune from an estranged relative. He built a mansion on a well-to-do estate just outside the town of Rouen. The estate was named le Château de Jumièges. (Sue me, I don't know French!) Anyway, Charles and his wife Madeleine had several children, the first being Erik. Despite the will of the mother that the estate should go to the next eldest son rather than the "creature," the father insisted that the law could not deny Erik's rights. Madeleine passed away first, then Charles shortly afterward, leaving the estate and all the wealth to a disfigured young genius. His heart was claimed by a young soprano named Christine Daae, foster daughter of Professor and Madame Valerius. She was also being pursued by the ambitious Raoul, the Vicomte de Chagny. Despite his superiority in wealth and position, Christine eventually chose Erik over Raoul (yay!), married him and went to live in his home. Due to depression and destitution that followed Christine's refusal, Raoul squandered much of his inheritance and was left with nearly nothing. His only relief came when he fell in love with and married none other than one of Erik's sisters (gasp!). This, of course, caused a great deal of tension in the family, but in the end Erik was willing to give them a humble dwelling in Brittony granted to his father from the same relative, which happened to be right next to the very opulent estate of Lady Dorothy de Vernier. But that is for later.

While Raoul and Erik's sister (whose name will not be mentioned since it is not important) had one son, Christoph de Chagny, Erik and Christine were encumbered with five daughters. The eldest was Charlotte Noir, considered the most beautiful of all the girls and the most similar to her mother in appearance (except her eyes were sea green and her darker blonde hair). The second eldest, and the heroine of our story, was Angelique Noir. She was considered the most rebellious, clever, and witty of the girls, with beauty that nearly competed with that of Charlotte. Madeleine Noir was the middle child who was somewhat of an oddball. She preferred to sit at home and either practice on the piano or read a book. Although she had her own form of beauty, she was the plainest and most nerdy of the girls. Rose and Lottie Noir were the youngest and silliest in the family, Rose the elder by two years. They were rambunctious flirts who loved parties and loved to make spectacles of themselves.

Unfortunately, these girls were now forced to find husbands before their father passed on. Why? Since Erik and Christine gave birth to no son, all of Erik's estate would be entailed away from the female line to Christoph de Chagny, who was at the time an orphan and a clergyman. (Talk about the past coming back to nip you in the butt.)

Now, a leap in the other direction . . .

Sherlock Holmes was the descendant of a long line of country squires, a line in which his other family members hoped he would follow. He was the second-eldest son of Siger and Violet Holmes, Mycroft Holmes being the first. While Mycroft was originally supposed to inherit the estate of Wold Newton and all of its wealth, he managed to escape by receiving a high and important position in the British government. So the buff was passed to Sherlock. In his youth he had hoped to pursue a career as a consulting detective and had begun adopting the "Bohemian" lifestyle. His relatives, however, including his aunt Lady Dorothy de Vernier, wished to encourage him to pursue a life more fitting for a gentleman of his "proper" status. In the end Holmes was permitted a residence at 221B Baker Street in London, but was at the same time required to tend to his residence at Wold Newton after his father's death. After said father's death, Mycroft and Sherlock became the joint-guardians of their younger sister Sigrin Holmes.

Among other things, Lady Dorothy was planning for her nephew and her daughter Violet de Vernier to be wed at some point, although Holmes had thus far rejected most women and had no intention of even courting other women. There is one woman, Irene Adler, of who was part of his little social circle. There was also her cousin Victor Trevor to whom Holmes had been for many years a good and trustworthy friend. Holmes' only other close friend was Dr. John H. Watson, who shared his quarters at Baker Street and sometimes accompanied him through the country along with Mycroft. Beside this small circle of friends, Holmes was not a very gregarious fellow. At social gatherings he was often viewed as being "disagreeable," "resentful," and even "proud." Holmes made no effort to contradict anyone's negative views of him, for he did not care about their opinions. Victor Trevor, on the other hand, was one of the most agreeable and amiable gentlemen one could ever meet in their lifetime. While he was always eager to approve, while his closest friend was determined to be displeased. It was amazing that such opposites could be such good friends. This was partly due to the fact that Trevor acknowledged Holmes as a clever man, even more than himself who was to his own estimation quite intelligent, and often sought his advice on matters great and small. Holmes, on the other hand, found Trevor's vivacity and wide-eyed eagerness a comfortable and entertaining hiatus from the strict decorum and stuffiness that he often faced every day of his life. Yet his friend's extrovert behavior would not rub off on the part-time detective.

All right, that's enough. I think you get the idea. So, let us FINALLY get on with the story. Dim the lights . . .


	2. Meet the Noirs

You already read the prologue. That should be enough. Just read the stupid fic now. PLEASE. ;)

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Chapter 1

"Erik, have you heard the wonderful news?"

Those were the first words Christine practically blurted out as soon as they were far away enough from the little cathedral in the center of the town of Rouen.

Erik sighed. It was not as if he wished to have time to reflect back on the service and the sermon and all of those things, but was it really necessary for Christine to start gossiping as soon as they had left the church? Then again, Rose and Lottie seemed to share the same mentality, for they too had begun chatting away shortly after the mass was over.

"Erik, have you heard the news?" repeated Christine. "Sherriford Hall has been let at last!"

"Is it?" replied Erik with little enthusiasm. Sherriford Hall was a highly coveted estate about three miles from le Chateau de Jumièges that for the past five years had fallen vacant.

"Yes it has, my dear! Do you not want to know who has taken it?"

Erik merely answered, "You want to tell me, and I have no objection to hearing it."

"Well, it has been taken by a young man of large fortune who has just traveled all the way from the north of England. A _single_ man of large fortune, my dear. His name is Trevor, and he will be in possession of it by the winter. And do you know that he has 30,000 francs a year!"

Christine paused, waiting to see what Erik's reaction would be. There was none. He merely kept walking, allowing the facts to mull over in his head, and then preparing to chuck them away. So she put in one more comment. "What a fine thing for our girls."

This made Erik stop and look at her in confusion. "How so? And how can it affect them?"

Christine looked at him in surprise, then glanced at their daughters. "Oh, Erik, how can you be so tiresome? You know I am thinking of his marrying one of them!"

Erik sighed and started walking once more. _Oh no. Not THIS business again_.

Angelique, who was keenly listening to the conversation and predicting what each parent must have been thinking, could not help but take her father's side. Since they were all old enough, Christine had done nothing but try and prepare them for the world of suitors and courtship, hoping that each one would easily find a suitable husband. Day in, day out, it was about nothing but finding the proper husband. Angelique could not help but feel that such pursuits were not as necessary as her mother made them out to be.

Instead of complaining or making her father's point, she replied playfully, "A single young man of large fortune _must_ be in want of a wife."

This made Rose and Lottie giggle. Christine, however, replied with sincerity. "Yes, he must indeed! And who better than one of our five girls?"

Just as she said that, Lottie snorted from her uncontrollable giggling. "Lottie!" reprimanded Charlotte, her large, sweet eyes widening in shock.

"What a fine joke if he were to choose me!" laughed Lottie, ignoring her eldest sister's disapproval.

"Or me!" echoed Rose.

"So that is his design," said Erik, "to marry one of our daughters?"

Christine once more was surprised by him. "Design? Oh how can you talk such nonsense! But he may very likely fall in love with one of them. Therefore you must visit him when he comes."

"Visit him? Oh, no, I see no occasion for that." His tone was very nonchalant.

Christine was once more in shock. Did he really mean it? "Erik . . ."

"Go with the girls. Or, still better, send them by themselves."

Now Christine really could not believe her ears. "Oh Erik! By themselves!"

"Of course. As you are as handsome as any of them, Mr. Trevor might like you best of the party."

Once again Lottie and Rose laughed out loud, and once again Lottie snorted. This time Angelique gently warned Lottie against the unpleasant habit.

Christine was not aware of anything going on behind as they arrived at the house. Her nerves were in a terrible state and she immediately began to have a fit when they walked through the door and the servant came to take their coats.

"Oh, I am so distressed! How could Erik do this to us? He has said over and over that he will not visit Mr. Trevor when he comes."

"Mama, I'm sure Papa is just teasing you," replied Charlotte in her usual soothing manner. Christine, however, was determined to make her complaints.

"No, no, Charlotte, it will not do. You know your father has a will of iron!"

As Christine continued her rants, the entire family assembled into the drawing room where they took their spots either at the table, on one of the couches, or any other stray chairs standing about the room with no particular use. Erik took his position by the fireplace, a tall formidable figure completely dressed in black, except for the white silk mask that totally enveloped his face but for his two yellow eyes. Some people in the town said that if one took the time to look long enough, they would see that Angelique was the only one of the five daughters who had inherited that unique color of eye. Although most would see her eyes as an ordinary hazel shade, she did in fact have golden streaks radiating from the pupils. This, among some other qualities as well, made the father and daughter quite similar as well as close. It sometimes vexed Christine that Erik should have favored Angelique above all the other girls. She was not nearly as beautiful as Charlotte or as lively and humorous as Lottie. But she had her fair share of both qualities, plus her wit and slightly more sophisticated level of intelligence.

Erik and Angel looked at their beloved wife/mother and could not help but find some small amusement in her overly-dramatic state.

"While I am very appreciative of the compliment, my dear," Erik began, "I will agree to write to Mr. Trevor and tell him that I have five daughters, and he may choose from any of them as he wishes. They are all silly and ignorant like other girls." Then he briefly glanced over at Angel, who always enjoyed her father's sarcastic sense of humor.

"Well, Angel may have a little more wit than the rest. But then he may want a stupid wife as others have done before him. There, will that do?"

Christine gave him an agonized look. "Oh, you just love to vex me, don't you? You have no compassion on my poor nerves!"

Erik chuckled a little louder this time. "You mistake me, my dear. I have the highest respect for your nerves. They have been my old and only friends these twenty years at least."

Most of the girls chuckled or giggled, except for Madeleine who usually did not find much humor in anything.

"You don't know what I suffer," moaned Christine again.

"Well, I hope you'll get over it and live to see many more men of 30,000 a year come into the neighborhood."

Christine's glance was more resentful than before. "It will be of no use if 20 such gentlemen came, since you _won't_ visit them!"

"Depend upon it, my dear," smirked Erik, "when there are twenty, I will visit them all." Then he walked out of the room, leaving the women of the house to discuss among themselves this interesting or vexing (in Christine's case) subject of Mr. Trevor, his 30,000 francs, and if Erik would really never call upon him when the time came.

Night eventually came after a long day of gossiping and griping, and everyone was retiring for bed. Only Erik was the exception, for he was working on his financial paperwork and needed to spend a few more hours thinking everything over.

Charlotte and Angelique shared a bedroom, as did Rose and Lottie. Madeleine had no sister of great closeness to partner up with, so she was granted a bedroom to herself. Rose and Lottie still could not stop talking and chattering about the men in the town and with whom they would and would not dance with at the next ball, and Christine was beginning to complain of a horrible headache.

Charlotte was quietly brushing her curly locks at her vanity while Angelique sat on the bed, temporarily lost in her own thoughts. After several minutes of reverie, she finally decided to speak.

She sighed. "If I could love a man who would love me enough to take me for 100 francs a year, I should be very much pleased."

"Yes," sighed Charlotte in an almost equally whimsical way.

Then Angel thought it over again. "But such a man can hardly be sensible, and you know I could never love a man who was out of his wits."

Charlotte laughed lightly at this, then grew serious again and placed down her brush. "Oh Angel . . . a marriage where either partner cannot love or respect the other . . . that cannot be agreeable, to either party."

"As we have daily proof," noted Angel, rolling her eyes slightly. She did believe that her parents loved each other a great deal, but she knew that even they had their share of arguments every single day. Couples who had not loved each other from the start were even worse off, and they were nearly everywhere in that day and age (although they were beginning to lessen more and more).

"But you know," she added, "beggars cannot be choosers."

Charlotte turned to her. "We aren't _very_ poor, Angel."

"With father's estate entailed away from us, we have little but our charms to recommend us. One of us, at least, will have to marry very well. And . . . since you are nearly five times as beautiful as the rest of us, and have the sweetest disposition, I fear that the task will fall on you to raise our fortunes."

Charlotte turned back to the mirror on her vanity, her reflected eyes downcast and anxious when she heard Angelique's point. "But Angel . . . I would wish . . . well, I would very much _like_ . . . to marry for love."

"Of course you will," replied Angel, walking over to her sister and placing her chin on Charlotte's head. "I'm sure of it. What man of good fortune would not fall in love with you?"

Charlotte let herself laugh at her sister's humor. "Very well, I will do my best, for you. And what about you?"

Angel gazed into the mirror, studying herself carefully to be sure of what she was going to say. She had thought it over many times before, and she was quite resolute. Still, it was better to be safe than sorry. As she stared, she answered, "I am determined . . . that _nothing_ but the deepest love will induce me into matrimony."

She paused for a moment, then continued in a more comical tone, "So . . . I will end an old spinster and teach your ten children how to embroider clothes and play their instruments very ill."

Both girls laughed, the elder shaking her head at the younger's severity upon herself, and the younger kissing the elder upon the head before retiring to bed.

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So, here it is. Should I continue or not? Although I will say that it should get better, considering that this is only the first chapter, I will understand if many of you feel that this is a totally ridiculous thing to continue. It's up to you whether or not the story goes on. Tell me what you think with your reviews. Until then, ladies and gents.


	3. Ball at le Lion Rouge

Only two reviews. Well, I suppose that's better than I expected. Except that the person who reviewed is a very good friend of mine. But, like Angel said, "Beggars can't be choosers." Man, I'm lame.

Charity, thank you for both your comments and your constructive criticism. I think you are very right about going more out on my own. I was just a little nervous about doing that in the beginning because people may not really know where this is coming from. But don't worry, more originality will be added. Your suggestions were very good and helpful, but the idea of Madeleine being Erik and Carlotta's lovechild . . .? Uh, no. Ewwww.

As for everyone else, read and review, please. Just a sentence or so. Or a whole paragraph if you'd like. I don't mind either way. Okay, enough desperate pleading. On with the show!

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Chapter 2

"I'm going to tell Mama first!"

"No, let me!"

"It was my idea! Besides, you're coughing up a storm!"

"I am not!" Cough.

"Are too! Save your breath to do _your_ part, and I'll do mine!"

"But—" Two more coughs.

"Oh, would you two please _stop_!"

Lottie and Rose looked at their mother in despair. They had been waiting so long to tell her all they had learned about Mr. Trevor from the Baron de Castelot-Barbezac (the husband of the former prima ballerina Meg Giry), and now they were beginning to get one her nerves. Lottie decided not to waste another moment.

"The Baron called on Mr. Trevor yesterday, and he told his wife and daughers—"

"Who then told _us_—" broke in Rose.

"_Yes_, (shh!) that he is without a doubt the most amiable gentleman ever to enter our village. He adores the country, adores parties, and most of all adores dancing! He has promised the Baron that he would attend the ball at the assembly rooms on Saturday!"

"Oh, Lottie, please _stop_!" pleaded Christine. "There's no use in talking about him since we will never become acquainted with him."

"But all the village is talking of him! Surely you would want to know that he is in fact coming to the ball, and the Barbezacs are certain to introduce us!"

"Oh yes," muttered Christine, "what a lovely scene that would be. They will have already introduced him to _their_ daughters. And that will be the end of it."

"Oh, Mama!"

Rose had to cough again. With every cough Christine began to fidget and fuss more and more.

"Rose, _please_ stop coughing. You know how it tries my nerves!"

"I don't cough for my own amusement!" cried Rose, ready to burst into tears from being scolded for something she could not help, plus never having a turn to tell her mother anything about Mr. Trevor.

"He promises to bring his company of friends to the ball with him. He'll be coming with seven ladies and four gentlemen."

"I thought it was twelve ladies and seven gentlemen," interrupted Rose.

"Too many ladies," muttered Erik, who had up until then been sitting quietly nearby in their sitting room reading a book. While his attentions had for the most part remained on the book during most of the conversation, he had begun to tune in at the mention of Mr. Trevor. Now it was time for him to intervene. His comment had already caught the attention of the two girls and the wife.

"Well, I think you shouldn't worry too much about Mr. Trevor, my dears."

"Precisely so," said Christine. "After all, _we'll_ never be acquainted with him."

"But Mama—" began Lottie.

"I'm sick of hearing about him!"

"Oh, well, that could be a problem," interrupted Erik again. "After hearing you and your complaints, perhaps I should never have called on him."

Christine whirled around in shock. "You . . . you have called on him!"

Lottie and Rose looked at each other in surprise, then looked at their father with pure glee.

"Unfortunately," continued Erik, as if this had been bad news rather than good news, "I'm afraid we will have no choice but to become acquainted with him."

Despite the fact that she was in her mid forties, Christine leapt out of her chair like a silly ballet girl and threw her arms around Erik's neck.

"Oh, my dear, how good you are to us! Oh, girls, is he not a good father? He came through for us after all!"

Erik enjoyed his wife and daughter's excitement for a few moments, then decided to excuse himself from the room before things began to go wild. Just as he was leaving, however, he quickly said, "Well, Rose, I think you can cough as much as you like now."

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Saturday came quickly for everyone in Rouen, but not too quickly for the Noir girls. Rose and Lottie had been constantly bickering and arguing about who should wear what and what belonged to whom. Although the whole idea of a ball was not as thrilling to the elder sisters as it was to the younger ones, Charlotte and Angelique had their own share of excitement.

"It would be a very lucky thing if you actually met a gentleman worthy of you, Charlotte," said Angelique as she tried to work the net of white silk stings into her hair. Their ball attire was not as fashionable as that of the people in Paris or London, but it sufficed for their own situation.

"Oh, don't worry yourself over such a thing, Angel. Let us just hope there will be enough men to go around at all!"

"You've met too many men whom you would deem worthy of yourself. Indeed, you see too much goodness in almost everyone you meet. All are well and good in your eyes."

"We shall see if that upholds tonight, then. Oh, but for goodness' sake, Angel, try to get your hair up more on the top of your head. It looks so much better that way."

Angel sighed as Charlotte began piling up her locks into one great mass. For someone with curly or wavy hair it would do very well, but Angel's hair was so straight and so silky that hardly anything could be done with it. After several minutes of fiddling, Charlotte finally sighed and left the rest to the hair's owner.

"To be honest, I'm more worried about you, Angel. You are always insistent about speaking your mind, even in public. And while we can appreciate the thoughts that come out of your head because we know you so well, most people will not find it so becoming."

Angel laughed. "I know, I know, I've been warned plenty of times. But I must admit I've gotten better over the years. Yet sometimes there is nothing for one to face but the absolute truth, even if it is not always what one wants to hear."

Charlotte merely shook her head. "Someday, Angel, one of these men will catch our eye, and then you will learn to control your tongue."

Just a few hours later, everyone was assembled for the ball at _le Lion Rouge_, and no one wasted any time in getting the ball under way. The only small disappointment was that Mr. Trevor had not arrived yet. However, it seemed understandable that men of great wealth and circumstance should allow—indeed, almost force—themselves to be "fashionably" late for anything. Once everyone had begun to dance, however, nearly everything else was forgotten. Lottie and Rose managed to find a partner for every dance, but most of the women there were not so fortunate. Madeleine never danced at balls, so there was no need to worry about her. Angelique, on the other hand, did enjoy dancing and was unable to find a partner for over half of the evening. Whenever she found herself alone, however, she took the liberty of either talking with Madeleine or her best friend Adele de Castelot-Barbezac, the Baron and Baroness' eldest daughter. Since both Christine and Meg (the Baroness) had been friends since their youth, it seemed only natural that the offspring remained in close relations with each other. Angelique and Adele were quite a pair. While Angelique possessed the wisdom of music and literature, Adele had great insight whenever it came to social affairs and courtships. Adele was not an idealist or a romantic, but she viewed the social intercourses between all members of the human race in a very practical manner. Angelique often found her views and observations quite amusing, but not always sound. Angelique was more drawn to ideal views of life, but did not expect a miraculous novel of love and adventure to come her way. For now, she preferred to watch the affairs of others and see how each miniature opera played itself out.

"How funny it would be," laughed Angelique at one point, "if I could write scores for each affair that we have witnessed tonight. I'm sure with the right volume and right amount of tweaking, these operas could provide us with hours of entertainment long after the ball was over."

"Perhaps," chuckled Adele. "Oh, that reminds me, you must play and sing for us at least once tonight."

Angelique sighed. "Why do you always insist on doing this? You know I am not very good."

"You have plenty of talent. You just never practice. You could be so good if only you were more motivated."

"It's true," sighed Charlotte, who happened to be standing nearby at the time. "Just hand her a violin and she'll whisk you away without being asked. Ask her to play the piano and she'll think of every excuse to leave the room."

"Oh, please, Angel?" begged Adele. "You can only improve by playing more. Just once tonight?"

"Yes, please?" echoed Charlotte.

Angel realized that either she would oblige or they would continue to press her all night until she caved. "Oh, very well. Nothing fancy, of course. Leave the playing of symphonies and concertos to Madeleine. She at least _enjoys_ them."

She was taken to another room where those who were not inclined to dance at the moment could rest without being in the way of those who did wish to dance. There sat a piano forte, waiting for someone to awaken its voice and bring pleasure to the ears of those surrounding it. Angelique selected a nice little ditty that anyone could tap their foot to. It was no masterpiece, but no one could doubt that she served the instrument justice. She could have been a great musician if she wanted to, but Angel only wished to play for amusement rather than to show off. Madeleine, on the other hand, was a different story. It was the only thing she liked about going to a ball, and only if the same building had a separate room with a piano. She would spend days practicing on the one she had at home, constantly working herself so as to show herself off in her own way out in public. Sadly, Madeleine had neither talent nor taste. Her playing was all technique and no passion or feeling. Her singing had minimal enjoyment for anyone who was only half listening.

The first half of the evening passed very much like this, as it always did, but in the second a new breath of change passed through the halls of _le Lion Rouge_, and everyone stop in mid sentence and mid step. The doors of the hall had opened, allowing in a new set of socialites.

Well, somewhat.

There were two ladies and three gentlemen standing at the door, all of them dressed in very elegant attire. Almost everyone could guess that the gentleman on the right with the jovial expression and easy, open manner was doubtlessly Mr. Trevor. The Baron immediately went up to him and welcomed him to the ball. Mr. Trevor replied very graciously. The rest of his company, however, did not seem so cheerful.

Among the large crowd staring at the newcomers, Charlotte, Angelique, and Adele were trying to gain the best possible vantage point for seeing the little group. "So, the painted peacocks came after all," commented Angel. "I suppose the only cheerful one among them is Mr. Trevor?"

"Yes," said Adele, who already recognized each member by appearance.

"And the rest?" asked Charlotte.

"The two women, Miss Adler and Mrs. Musgrave, are cousins of Mr. Trevor, I believe. One of the gentlemen is Mr. Musgrave, the one with the gray hair and long face."

"And the one with the large forehead and hawkish nose?" asked Angel.

"That gentlemen is Mr. Sherlock Holmes. He is an old friend of Mr. Trevor."

Angel could not help but find some amusement in the gentleman's manner. "He looks miserable, poor soul."

"Miserable he may be," said Adele, "but poor he most certainly is not. His own wealth accumulates above that of Trevor's."

"Tell us."

"50,000 francs a year, and he owns the wealthiest estate in Yorkshire."

Just as Adele had finished speaking, the group was passing by them, and they were required to give a courteous bow. As Angel did so, she managed to quickly glance up at the aristocrats. Most of them seemed relatively unmoved by the gesture of decorum and walked on without a look. Then she noticed that the man identified as Mr. Holmes was very subtly glancing about the room and its occupants. As his eyes passed over on her side of the room, their eyes briefly met. Before Angel could even think anything, however, he quickly looked away and faced forward. This slightly surprised Angel, and it made her wonder whether he was merely as surprised that they had happened to look at each other at the very same moment, or if he was offended by her appearance instead. As she watched him pass, the stuffiness of the group and the incident itself, put together, made the situation appear very absurd. She quietly emitted a small laugh that no one else seemed to notice.

At last, after what seemed like an eternity, the newcomers finally reached the end of the hall, and everyone was able to start talking and dancing again.

Christine wasted no time in meeting Mr. Trevor and introducing him to her children. After a great deal of effort, she managed to assemble Angel, Charlotte, and Madeleine and bring them to where Mr. Trevor was standing and watching the ball. She dragged Erik along as well so that he could introduce them.

"Good evening, Mr. Trevor," said Erik as they approached the gentleman. He looked slightly uneasy as he brought Christine forward. "May I introduce my wife, Mrs. Noir."

"Good evening, madam," said Mr. Trevor in his characteristically upbeat tone.

"Good eveing, sir!" replied Christine with even more enthusiasm. "You are very welcome to Normandy, and I hope you will enjoy your time here. There are so many people to see and to meet. Speaking of which, allow me to introduce you to my charming daughters. This here is Charlotte, my eldest. This is Angelique, and this is Madeleine. And over there are Rose and Lottie, the two girls dancing in the center."

Despite the thickness of the crowd, it was hard to miss Lottie and Rose. They were dancing the most wildly of anyone else.

"Do you care to dance yourself, Mr. Trevor?"

"There is nothing I love better, madam," said Mr. Trevor. Then he turned to Charlotte. "And if Miss Noir is not otherwise engaged, may I be so bold as to claim her for the next dance?"

Angel immediately turned to Charlotte, whose eyes had widened and glistened in excitement. It was clear that she already beginning to like him. "I would be honored, Mr. Trevor."

"Thank you," he replied with a pleasant smile.

"That is very kind of you, sir," replied Christine.

Angelique was very happy for Charlotte. It was only a shame that she still could not find a dancing partner for herself. Then she spotted the gentleman's friend, Mr. Holmes, standing just a foot away from their party. He seemed to be more absorbed in looking around with his keen, grey eyes than taking heed of the people his friend had just met.

"Do you care for dancing too, Mr. Holmes?" she spoke up, trying to gain his attention.

He immediately turned her way, slightly surprised by her interruption of his thoughts. "No, thank you, I don't dance," he replied.

Angel was not quite sure how to take this. It was very difficult to determine his tone. His tone did not seem stuffy, yet he was by no means nonchalant or casual in his answer. He seemed to think it over for just a second before giving it. It was not flat out snobbery, yet there was a desire for detachment from the questioning party. That was the only sure thing in Angelique's mind when he slipped away into the crowd. It took several seconds for Mr. Trevor to realize what had happened, then he cordially excused himself and attempted to find his friend before the next dance began.

Angel spotted Mr. Trevor several times throughout the evening, and almost always in company with her older sister. It was clear that the two of them had taken a liking to each other. Poor Charlotte still felt somewhat shy, but there was no doubt that she enjoyed his company. For almost every other dance Trevor was partnered with Charlotte. He danced one dance with Adele (which made Christine nervous) and one dance with Angel. For the rest of the time he kept most of his attentions on Charlotte. There was one short period, however, in which he did not focus on Charlotte. At least not completely.

Angel was sitting in a corner by herself, without a partner once more and being forced to satisfy herself with watching other people. As she sat there, she suddenly heard Mr. Trevor's voice saying, "Come Holmes, I must have you dance!"

She hadn't even realized that Mr. Holmes was standing just a few feet away from her. Apparently he hadn't noticed either. _He must have been too distracted looking everywhere else_, she thought with a laugh.

"I hate seeing you standing about in this stupid manner," said Mr. Trevor. "Come, you had much better dance."

Angel managed a quick glance in their direction. She could see Mr. Holmes arching his eyebrow at his friend, then letting out a soft snort. "I most certainly shall not. You know I don't care for these sort of gatherings. It would be insupportable."

The snobbery seemed to come out a bit stronger this time, and it left a slight, sour taste on Angelique's tongue. But she was not concerned. After all, rich people could give offense whenever they wished, and therefore there was no need to desire their good opinion. But despite her reassurance, the follow part still managed to find a way to pierce her protective shield of indifference.

"Come now, Holmes, don't be so fastidious! I've never met more pleasant people or prettier girls in my life. There are some that are _uncommonly_ pretty."

Angel didn't need to look at him to know who he had in mind when he said this. Holmes didn't need to either. "You have been dancing with the only handsome girl in the room," he said. Honesty with a touch of cynicism.

"She is, indeed, the most beautiful creature I have ever encountered," said Trevor in a captivated manner. There was not a doubt in Angel's mind that he was smitten. Then the conversation took an interesting turn.

"Wait, look over there," said Trevor. "There's one of her sisters, the second eldest I believe."

Realizing that their attention was completely focused on her now, Angelique did her best to appear absolutely unaware of their conversation.

"She is very pretty too, is she not? And I daresay, very agreeable."

"She is tolerable, I suppose," answered Holmes almost too quickly, "but she is not handsome enough to tempt me. Trevor, I'm not in the humor of giving consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men. Now go back to your partner and enjoy her smiles. You're wasting your time with me."

Angelique was torn between laughing and scoffing at his cruel analysis of her appearance. Perhaps she had offended him after all when he glanced her way before. Despite the harshness of the comment, however, Angelique spoke of it to her friends with good humor. As soon as the two gentlemen had moved far away enough from her, she got up and tracked down Adele to tell her what happened. Adele found Mr. Holmes' opinion quite unfair toward Angel, but then she added, "On the other hand, you should be somewhat grateful. If he liked you, you'd have to talk to him."

Later on in the evening, however, Angelique managed to have a chance to get back at him, at least to a small degree. Christine, Charlotte, and Mr. Trevor were engaged in conversation, and soon Angelique joined up with them. Mr. Holmes also came along when Christine began to talk about the Barbezacs.

"Oh, they have a fine set of children, I daresay, Mr. Trevor, but it is only a shame that they are not a bit handsomer."

Charlotte and Angelique both looked mortified at their mother's statement. "Mother!"

"Well, you must admit that Adele is not the handsomest girl in the group. My Charlotte, on the other hand, is very handsome indeed."

"Without a doubt, Mrs. Noir," replied Mr. Trevor, although he seemed to turn a little uneasy at Christine's previous comment. Angel was still slightly annoyed when Mr. Holmes joined their little circle. Seeing him made her feel a little better, since she would hopefully have a chance to turn her vexation on him rather than on her mother.

"I remember when Charlotte was only fifteen and there was a young man who was nearly about ready to propose to her. But that, unfortunately, did not turn out as we had hoped. He wrote her a few love letters, though."

Charlotte turned slightly red at the mention of the letters. Angelique laughed. "It was another bit of proof that poetry is often the downfall of love."

Holmes gave her a questioning look. "I thought poetry was thought of as the food of love."

She turned to him. "When the passion is strong and certain, then yes; but if it is merely an infatuation with no steady ground, then the use of verse will cause the love to wither on the vine."

"Then what do you suggest," he retorted, "to make love grow?"

"Dancing," she answered, then added in a lower tone, "even if the partner in question is barely _tolerable_."

Although he tried to keep his expression neutral, she could see that he did not miss her meaning, and a hint of embarrassment passed over his eyes before it was replaced by indifferent coolness. It was only for a moment, but it was enough for her. Without a word, Angelique turned and walked away, only then allowing herself to smile a little. It was a mild form of revenge, but it sufficed for the time being. She was sure he did not take back his opinion, but he would be more careful about who was around and who could be listening when he decided to proclaim his opinions in a public place.

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Wow, long chapter. Yikes. So, did you like it, or did you not? Please give me any suggestions you wish, unless you think that I'm a hopeless case; then you can say that this story stinks. (Please don't go any harsher than that.) If you like it, that's okay, too. JUST LET ME KNOW! AAAAHHHH! Oh, and Happy Holidays. 


	4. New Acquaintances

Keep on writing, keep on writing, keep on writing . . .

If you are reading this chapter after having gone through the last three, I warmly shake you by the hand. Now, let's try to make things really interesting . . . yeah, that's gonna happen (smacks forehead against desk).

Thank you, Charity and Mominator, for your reviews. Yes, Erik and Christine are kind of OOC in this story, but I'm trying to make them and their counterparts as similar to each other as possible. Also consider this: Erik (according to Leroux) loved Christine so much that he would have been willing to live in the outside world for her. He also wanted to be "like everyone else." Now, while the Erik in this story did not undergo the same experiences as the original one did, they both share the same personal essence. Also, if you read "P&P," you can sort of see that Mr. Bennett is not a very outgoing man himself. But he is a gentleman, and he has been instilled with the duty to be sociable at least once in a while. The rest of the time he prefers to stay at home. If Erik had not been born with his disfigurement, I wouldn't be surprised if he had turned out to be very much like Mr. Bennett with his sarcastic sense of humor and natural preference to not go out in public very much.

It's harder to defend Christine, since Mrs. Bennett's persona is very overpowering. So I know I have to work on her a little. You have to consider, however, that after being married for over twenty years with five grown children, Christine and Erik are not going to be the very same people they were when they got married. Especially Christine, since she was only twenty at the time and she has had to grow into the world more.

Oh, and this version is a combination of the new movie, the A&E/BBC miniseries, and a little of the book itself. Well, that's enough explaining for now. Let's just get to the bloody story.

Readers: FINALLY!

Disclaimer: Go back to the prologue. Then read this chapter.

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Lottie collapsed into a chair and brushed her strawberry-blonde curls out of her face. "What a night! Whew, I've never been so exhausted in my life!"

"No wonder," noted Madeleine. "You and Rose danced every dance."

"And you none!" Lottie laughed in return.

"Oh, it was quite an evening," said Christine as she entered the sitting room. "Was not Mr. Trevor the most agreeable man you've ever met in your life?"

"Yes, yes," said Erik, answering his wife's question for the hundredth time.

"And he has 30,000 a year!"

"I _know_."

"And Charlotte was so admired by him! He danced with her for nearly the whole evening!"

"I know, my dear. I was there, remember?"

"Well, how can you blame me? You have this constant habit of disappearing once we get there. I do wish you talk with our friends more."

"If I could have it my way, I won't even be attending these bloody balls! I knew, however, that you and the girls were very eager to meet Mr. Trevor, so I did my duty. Now may we please drop the subject for tonight?"

Erik swiped a book he had been reading earlier that day and tried to continue with it. Christine, however, was far from being satisfied.

"Oh, Erik, you're always so sour whenever we get back from a ball. Perhaps you shouldn't go to these things anymore."

The only reply was a quiet groan and a roll of the eyes. Angelique did her best to repress her laughter. Being too excited to stop talking about what had happened, Christine gathered the girls in a circle to make their conversation more intimate so Erik would not be as bothered by them.

"Anyway, I think, Charlotte, that Mr. Trevor is the man for you. There is no doubt about it."

"Can you be so sure?" asked Charlotte nervously.

"Of course we can," smiled Angelique. "He danced with you for most of the night and stared at you for the rest."

The mother and girls giggled. Erik shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"I was a little vexed that he danced with Adele just after dancing with you, but sure enough nothing else would satisfy him but to stand up with you again!"

Charlotte began to blush. "Mama . . ."

"And then he danced with Angel, did he not?" asked Rose, trying to have her share of the conversation.

"Oh yes," said Christine, "and then, who do you think he danced with next?"

"Enough!" cried Erik. "Enough, madam, for God's sake, let's hear no more about his partners! If he knew what I would have to hear, he would have sprained his ankle in the first dance!"

"Oh, and his cousins!" cried Christine, still looking at the girls and ignoring Erik's statement. "They were so charming and elegant and obliging. Do you not remember them Charlotte? And you, Angel? Oh, right, you only met them for a moment. But Charlotte and I had a lovely conversation with Miss Irene Adler. She is the epitome of feminine fashion. And really, the lace on Mrs. Musgrave's gown—"

"_No lace_," said Erik, pointing a warning finger at her. "_No lace_, Christine, I _beg_ you."

"But not all of his company was so pleasing," noted Rose.

Christine's mood immediately changed from excitement to resentment. "Oh yes, the so-called Mr. Holmes. Did you not hear about him slighting poor Angel? He refused to stand up with her! Well, he may be the richest man in Yorkshire, but he is certainly not worth _our_ concern."

For the first time that evening Erik was actually drawn into the conversation. "He slighted my Angel, did he?" He looked over at her to see what her reaction was. She turned to him and gave him a playful smile.

"I didn't care for him either, Papa, so it is of little matter."

"If I were in your place," said her mother, "I would not dance with him at all, even if he _did_ ask you."

Angel laughed. "I think, Mama, I can assure you that I will never dance with Mr. Holmes."

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"So, none of the Normandy girls could capture your interest, Mr. Holmes?" questioned Miss Adler as she picked up her cup of tea the next morning. She took her place at the breakfast table between Trevor and Mrs. Musgrave.

"Not even the famous Miss Noirs?" put in the other lady.

Holmes made no answer. He made himself appear to be too engrossed in the morning paper to think of such a trifling thing. Miss Adler, however, had no doubt in her mind that he was listening to them very carefully. She enjoyed trying to get Holmes' goat, especially when he was in one of his particularly grim moods.

Sensing what his cousin was trying to do, Trevor got up from the table and began pacing around the room in his normal cheery manner. "Well, I don't believe I have ever been with such pretty girls in my entire life."

Holmes looked up at his friend. "Trevor, you astonish me. Among all of those women, I could find little beauty and no breeding at all." In truth, he did not take the whole "breeding" concept to heart, but the note was enough to make his point: Trevor was in too much of a rush to accept these people as sufficient company for everyday life. It was simply ridiculous to jump to such assumptions. Then Holmes added, "The eldest Miss Noir is, I grant you, quite pretty."

"A fine concession," said Trevor, speaking in a half-sarcastic tone for the first time since their arrival. "Come man, admit that she is an angel!"

Holmes smirked and shook his head. "I will say nothing of the sort. Besides, she smiles too much."

"Oh, I must admit, Charlotte Noir is a sweet girl," said Miss Adler, adapting a tone of genuine warmth, which was a rare thing for her. "But the _mother_ . . ."

Trevor sighed. Yes, the _mother_. Even he could not ignore that fact.

Then another interesting thought came to Miss Adler's mind. She turned to Mrs. Musgrave. "I heard Miss Angela Noir being described as a famous local beauty. What do you say to that, Mr. Holmes?"

Holmes kept his eyes on his paper and his cup near his mouth as he answered. "I would as soon call her mother a wit."

Miss Adler and Mrs. Musgrave burst out laughing. "Really, Mr. Holmes!" cried the former. "That is too cruel!"

Trevor shook his head as he walked past Holmes in the midst of his pacing. "Holmes, I don't think I will ever understand why you insist on being displeased with everything and everyone you meet in society."

Holmes looked up at Trevor, another smirk beginning to form on his lips. "And I will never understand why _you_ are in such a rage to approve of everything and everyone that you meet."

Trevor could only sigh again at his friend's conjectures. There was simply no changing him. "Well, one thing is for sure: you cannot make me think ill of Miss Noir."

"Indeed, he cannot," concurred Miss Adler. "I dare to disagree with him and declare that she is a very dear, sweet girl, despite of her unfortunate connections, I shall not be sorry to know her better."

"Nor I!" declared Mrs. Musgrave.

Holmes looked at the two women again and grinned. He permitted them to play their little game. He predicted it would not be long before they tired of it. Wealthy women often grew bored and were prepared to tackle any trifle to save them from ennui.

He shook his head slightly. That sounded all too familiar.

"As you can see, Mr. Holmes," said Miss Adler in her own sly tone, "_we_ are not afraid of you."

"I would not have you so," he replied before looking at the paper once more.

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"He's everything a young man ought to be, Angel," sighed Charlotte as she began plucking the pedals of a small field flower. "He's sensible, he's lively, and he has the happy manners of no one I have ever met or seen."

"He's handsome, too," noted Angelique, "which a young man ought to be if he possibly can." She too was working on a flower at the moment, seeing how many times she could peel the stem until it was too thin to peel anymore. A dozen threads of stem fibers littered her lap.

"And he seems to like you very much, which shows good judgment. No, I give you leave to like him. You've liked many stupider a person. I only wish he were better situated in his choice of relatives and friends. . . . although I suppose he cannot help his cousins."

"You mean you didn't like them?" said Charlotte. "I suppose they were a little imposing at first, but they are very pleasing once you get used to them."

"I cannot share such warm feelings for them, I'm afraid," said Angelique. "While I do not wish for my opinion of them to influence yours, I must say that their congenial manners can only go so deep. One can just see in their manner of expression and movement that they believe in their superiority over those around them who are not of their class and fortune. I almost hope to be proven wrong, but only time can tell in such cases."

"Well, I believe they will make very charming neighbors," said Charlotte. She stood up to brush off the pedals and stems from her dress and began to walk towards the main entrance of the house. Angelique quickly followed her.

"I still think that Mr. Trevor is very well suited for you," said Angel. "You should merely be on your guard when it comes to the other members of that household."

"Oh, Angel, I'm sure you mean well. But I'm almost as nearly sure that you are wrong. Who knows? Maybe Mr. Holmes will improve on close acquaintance as well."

Angel stared at her with overly-exaggerated shock. "What! You think he will ever chose to give consequence to ladies who are slighted by other men? Never!"

Charlotte laughed at her dramatic display. "I know, it was still very wrong of him to speak so."

Angel returned to her normal self and shrugged. "That's quite true, although not in the way you may think. Normally I might have been able to forgive him of his pride and vanity, had he not decided to injure mine. In any case, we may have the good fortune of never speaking to him again. Oh, look, there's Adele by the gate! Quick, let's let her in!"

The two girls ran up to the gate and opened it for their friend. "Angel! Charlotte!" cried Adele. "We're having a party at le Loge de Castelot, and you are all invited!"

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Although the party was more exclusive in its choice of company (the closer friends of the Castelot-Barbezacs), and therefore less people were expected to attend, there was still room for a new form of company to join the social circle of gentry in Rouen. Among these guests were Colonel and Madame Dubois, the colonel being the head of the 19th regiment of the French army, which had just arrived in Normandy.

Madeleine was playing at the piano (as usual) while the rest of the sisters were around and about talking to various people. Rose and Lottie were keeping their attention on the officers who were attending the party along with Colonel Dubois. After all, what other men in the world could surpass the gallantry of a soldier? Besides, men always looked better when they wore regimentals.

Christine could not stop talking about Mr. Trevor and how he admired Charlotte so much, constantly going on and on and on. Meg de Castelot-Barbezac and Angelique decided it would be best to change the subject.

"And how are you enjoying your stay in Rouen?" asked the Baroness, cutting Christine a little short in the process.

"Very well, madame," said Colonel Dubois, his speech, like his dress, neat and smart. "And even more so this evening. My officers have been much deprived of society and find great comfort in your welcome."

"I'm sure your officers will be very pleased by their visit," said Angelique. Just then two young officers, along with Lottie and Rose (of course), began to laugh heartily at some humorous statement.

"Henri and Jules seemed to be well pleased," noted Madame Dubois.

In the meantime, the Baron de Castelot-Barbezac was busy becoming better acquainted with Miss Alder and Mrs. Musgrave. Mr. Musgrave had retired to some other room and Holmes was momentarily engaged in his own musings. This gave the Baron ample opportunity to speak to the ladies without them finding some way to escape the conversation. He was as good a gentleman as the next man, but his offers to introduce them at the King's court and any other elite social circles made the two women find him irritating. Miss Adler, barely capable of restraining herself, said coolly, "You are too kind, sir," curtsied, and excused both herself and her cousin.

Thinking he had gained favor rather than resentment, the Baron walked off in a cheery manner saying, "Capital!" to everyone. When he was far away enough, Irene and Mrs. Musgrave let out huge, yet quiet, sighs of relief.

"Insufferable conceit," Irene muttered. "To imagine that we would need _his_ assistance in society."

Mrs. Musgrave smiled and patted her friend's shoulder. "I'm sure he is a good man, Irene."

The single lady laughed. "And I'm sure he kept a good little shop before receiving his 'title.'" She chuckled at her own little joke, then turned to glance over at Holmes. Knowing him, she could hardly imagine the anguish his mind was undergoing at that moment. Such pains seemed so ridiculous for any of them, yet as long as Mr. Trevor wished to keep house at Sherriford, they were forced to accommodate for the time being.

"Poor Holmes," she thought to herself, but not without a touch of laughter. "What agonies he must be suffering."

Holmes was not, however, trapped in the state of torture and boredom Irene had expected him to be in. For most of day and into the evening, Holmes had been thinking over the night at the ball. He recalled the large mass of people he saw when his party first entered that hall. It made his stomach turn from uneasiness. He dearly wished he would not have to spend all evening trying become acquainted with every single person in the room, for he knew that would be his friend's disposition. He found himself, however, genuinely surprised. Almost as soon as they had begun to process down the center of the hall, his eyes had fallen upon someone. It just so happened that her eyes fell upon him at the same time. It had been purely coincidental, of course, and could carry no merit upon what would pass between himself and the person he had seen later on.

She was not a particularly remarkable thing to look at. She had her share of beauty, but there were certainly others whose beauty deserved much more notice than hers. The one thing, however, that he could not dismiss from his memory were her eyes. He had been so surprised by them without knowing why. He had only looked at them for a moment, and yet they had already affected him. He could not even remember from that moment what color they were, but they must have been something unusual to stand out so strongly in his mind.

He removed the girl from his thoughts for the moment and focused on everything else as the group continued and finished its walk. Then the ball resumed again. Several people had approached Trevor and talked to him with great vigor. Holmes managed to keep himself at enough of a distance so as to be overshadowed by the incandescent enthusiasm of his friend. It suited him very well for a while, until the Noir family was introduced. He immediately found the mother irritating, with her over-eager manner to introduce all of her daughters to the country squire. The father seemed all right, although he had a darkening presence, perhaps due to the fact that he was so incredibly tall and blocked out a great deal of light. The mask was unsettling as well.

He had chanced a quick glimpse at the eldest daughter when he heard Trevor ask her to dance. She was, indeed, a very handsome girl, although the family resemblance between her and her mother was even more unsettling than her father's mask. But he soon could see that she was not as extroverted and gossiping as her identical parent. This last fact was only added after Trevor had spent more time with Miss Noir.

As he listened, Holmes was ready for the family to move on before someone else chose to approach them. Suddenly, he heard someone addressing him. He whirled around and realized it was the same girl he had seen earlier. He also realized that she was asking him if he also cared to dance.

Holmes could not blame himself for his reaction. She had caught him completely off guard. The honest truth was all that came to mind in that short moment, so that was what he delivered. He could see that she was somewhat shaken by this, though not deeply upset. Deciding that it would be best to go and find another lonely spot to think in, he had turned and walked away before the young woman could say anything.

He struggled to recall what her name was. Her mother had said it not a moment before. A part of himself questioned why he even cared, but the other part was still curious all the same. At least if he happened to encounter her again, he would think of her in his mind by her proper name rather than as the woman whose eyes had startled him and to whom he said, "No, thank you, I don't dance."

Trevor had eventually tracked him down and professed his displeasure at his friend's unsociable manner. By then the incident had past long enough ago that Holmes was no longer concerned. And then she was there again. It was Trevor who had noticed her, sitting in that little corner, staring at the crowd of revelers. Holmes was perplexed at how she kept popping up everywhere he went. When Trevor suggested that he select her as a dancing partner, he very promptly turned the offer down. That was the last thing he was interested in doing. Having encountered her twice under awkward circumstances already was quite enough for him. He did not need a third incident.

The next and last meeting between the two of them that night was the most memorable one for him. Holmes had been roaming through the crowd, trying to take in as much as his large mind would permit. He could learn a great deal about anyone just by eying over their attire and examining the wear of their shoes. It was somewhat of a shame that he could not be a full-time consulting detective. He knew that he would eventually have to give it up entirely. But for now, he managed to balance things out between his desired profession and his inheritance.

Then he spotted her again. Now he believed he had her name. Angelique Noir, right? Yes, that sounded right. She was with her mother and sister Charlotte again as well as Trevor. He quickly looked over her once more to see what he could make of her. He already acknowledged that she was by no means the most beautiful woman in the room. Yet, as he looked at her, he began to see something else of her that he had never observed in anyone else before. His attention was once more drawn to her eyes. They were the strangest combination of light and shadow, of brown, green, and brilliant gold streaks. He could tell that she was very used to using her eyes as a form of expression – a tendency for those who are trained in performing. There seemed to be so much more, though, such depth that could not be fathomed by mere distant observation. This source of expression branched from the central enigmatic orbs and somehow seeped its way into every part of her body, manifesting itself in every movement and gesture that she made. Through this her physical beauty accumulated to a new degree. There was a strong mark of intelligence and understanding, but also a mark of playfulness and vivacity to complement it. The more he looked on, the more inclined Holmes became in his desire to know her better. And the stronger this inclination grew, the more he moved closer and closer to the group.

He had just managed to catch the end of what Mrs. Noir said about love letters when he entered the ring. Angelique made her comment about the dooming of love through poetry. Not letting himself waste a moment, he questioned her statement. When she gave her unexpected yet understandable answer, he asked her again what she would suggest as a replacement.

"Dancing, even if the partner in question is _barely_ tolerable."

The last remark struck him like an arrow. He made himself appear unaffected as best as he could, but the pain of exposure stung no less. So she _had_ heard the conversation between himself and Trevor.

_Congratulations on being such an ass_.

Before he could say anything, Angelique turned away in satisfaction of her triumph.

Now here they were again. Holmes and the rest of the party had been invited to the Barbezacs' small evening party. The Noirs were there as well, except for the father who apparently was the wiser and decided to stay home.

Holmes was slightly glad that the place was not as compacted as the ball had been, which made it easier to pick people out individually. As he had scanned the room, his eyes once again fell on Angelique. This time she was not looking at him, which was another relief to his mind. He preferred to watch her in action for the moment, rather than try to engage in conversation with her again. It was too soon for that.

His observing her, however, did not go unnoticed for long.

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Okay, the rest has _got_ to wait for the next chapter. Sorry about the cliffhanger. Is this chapter too long? I guess I could cut it in half, but I kind of like writing less individual chapters. It means less updates to be done. Hope you like it so far. And remember, READ & REVIEW. All comments welcome. Except flames. Well, maybe if the pickings are slim . . .


	5. New Acquaintances: part 2

This feels slightly awkward with starting in the middle of a party scene, but we'll have to deal. Keep reviewing! And thanks!

Mominator – Aw crap! I hate it when I mess up words like that! Ack! Oh well. I'll fix it eventually. And yeah, portraying Christine as dim-witted is much more funny. Hehe.

Charity – Nah, he's one of Holmes' old school associates. He had a case for him in "The Musgrave Ritual." And in case you're wondering, Victor Trevor was Holmes' closest friend before Watson, and who he had also met at school. He made his appearance in "The Gloria Scott."

And to the rest of you – Keep on reading, keep on reviewing, keep on reading, keep on reviewing . . .

Disclaimer: Need I ask?

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Chapter 3 (continued) (sorry I didn't label the previous chapter)

Angelique and Adele stood near one of the windows of the room, trying to carry a conversation without being distracted by the commotion made by everyone else.

"I see Mr. Trevor continues his attentions towards Charlotte," noted Adele.

Both girls looked over at the couple who were standing no more than five feet away. Mr. Trevor spoke in an eager and pleasant manner, which could be seen just by the motions of his hands and the expressions of his mouth and face. Charlotte appeared to return his regard warmly, but she still held some reserve in her owns expressions. Angelique sighed at this. Charlotte was such a timid girl, if only she could be a little easier around Mr. Trevor. Altogether, however, it would seem that no better couple could be found anywhere else in the world.

"I am very happy for her, Adele," she said with an unrestrained smile. It was one of those few moments in which Angelique was truly happy, and it was often for Charlotte's sake.

"Do you think she is in love with him?"

"Almost without a doubt."

"And do you think Mr. Trevor is in love with her?"

Angelique decided to look at them again, just to be sure. "Well, he certainly _likes_ her very much. I would not be surprised if he is or should soon be in love with her."

"Then she should leave him in no doubt of her heart," said Adele, speaking in a very practical tone. "She should show more affection – not _less_ – is she wants to secure him."

Angelique laughed. "Secure him? Why do you worry about that?"

"Mr. Trevor does not know Charlotte the way we do. They have only known each other for a week. If she wants to assure him that she is attracted to him, then she should make an effort to show it more."

"Oh, Adele, you know she is not the sort of person to do something like that. She is shy and modest."

"Then how will he know her feelings if she is reserved about them? It is all a game, Angelique, one that I know you don't care to take part in. But that is how life is. We think that when we find love, all will turn out as we want it to, one way or another. But love takes work."

Angelique shook her head. "You know you would never act that way yourself. Only a fool in love would subject themselves to such a display."

It was Adele's turn to smile. "We are all fools in love in the end. It is a part of our human nature."

Angelique sighed. She very much doubted that Charlotte would being willing to put herself through that. As far as she could see, their only hope was that Mr. Trevor _would_.

"In any case, Mr. Trevor does not seem to get much encouragement from his cousins," continued Adele.

"Or his friend," added Angelique in a begrudging tone.

Both of the girl's eyes found Mr. Holmes standing by himself, staring around the room in his usual, unsociable way. As they keenly watched, however, they noticed that his eyes often turned in Angel's direction. He would look her way for a moment or two, then pretend to be distracted and look somewhere else for a little while. This ritual was repeated several times during the evening, and it did not take long for Adele and Angel to detect it.

"I wonder why Mr. Holmes looks at you so much, Angel?"

Angel wondered the same herself. He could not have found her attractive, for she had heard it straight from his mouth that he did not. She could only conclude, then, that he merely stared at her with contempt. Perhaps from the way she had spoken to him at the ball.

_Perhaps he is seeking his own form of revenge_, she thought. _Well, I can play at that game for as long as he can_.

"It's a shame he should be bound to society in such a way," she mused aloud. "His presence only makes others uneasy."

Suddenly there was a disturbance. They could both hear Lottie speaking very loudly, "A ball, Colonel Dubois? Who's giving a ball? We've been longing for a ball! We would be happy to dance with _all_ of the officers, right Rose? Oh, but if only Madeleine could play something so that we could dance with them _now_."

Then the redhead stormed through the crowd and approached the piano forte where Madeleine was playing one of her prized concertos. "Enough of that stuff, Madeleine! Play something we can dance to!"

"But I'm not finished!" objected Madeleine frantically. "Mama, tell her it isn't fair!"

Christine sighed. "Why don't you oblige your sisters, Madeleine? They would enjoy it more than those concertos."

A silence hung over the room. Angelique could see that Madeleine was distressed at her situation. Then the Baroness approached her.

"My dear, you will have plenty of opportunity to play your pieces," she said gently, "for no one can play as well as you. Let us just oblige them this once, shall we?"

Lottie gave Madeleine a doubtful look when the Baroness mentioned the idea that no one could play better than her. She found that very unlikely.

"Very well," grumbled Madeleine. She looked at Lottie with gritting teeth. "Although you know it gives me very little pleasure."

"Whatever you say," said Lottie in a sarcastic tone, then she quickly joined Rose, Henri, and Jules. A few more couples joined them, and soon the entire group was spinning around the room like a set of toy tops released with incredible force.

In the midst of the lively music and addition of noise, Angel and Adele spotted the Baron approaching Mr. Holmes. Angelique's interest was immediately seized and she carefully inched her way in their direction.

"Angel, what are you doing?" whispered Adele.

"Come now, Adele, you wouldn't want to miss out on another conversation with Mr. Sherlock Holmes, now would you? If you listen, you will see why I think of him as I do. Let's listen to your father, and see what the Yorkshire gentleman has to say about it."

Adele sighed and reluctantly followed Angelique as they tried to be as furtive and inconspicuous as possible. They were soon within earshot.

"Is this not a splendid party, Mr. Holmes?" said the Baron. "Nothing like dancing, eh? It is, without a doubt, one of the refinements of every polished society."

"_And_ every unpolished society," Holmes pointed out. He did not even look in the Baron's direction.

The Baron was caught off balance. "Um, sir?"

Holmes looked out of the corner of his eye. "Every savage can dance."

The Baron's eyes widened a bit at the man's grim response, then muttered quietly, "Yes, yes," and took a few steps away.

Angelique covered her mouth as she tried not to laugh. "What did I tell you?"

Adele shook her head. "It's extraordinary. He certainly has a cynical way of looking at things."

"Poor he may not be," said Angel, turning her friend's own words around, "but miserable he most certainly is."

The two friends looked at the group of dancers again. Lottie seemed to become the center of attention for most of the officers, since a number of them were trying to have their chance to dance with her. At one point there were a few who began to playfully try to catch a part of her dress or one of the ribbons in her hair. She would manage to slip away and give an excited shriek at their attempts. Angelique could see how such a situation could go out of control.

"I should probably speak to Lottie," said Angel at last, "before she exposes herself as a source of ridicule."

She parted from Adele and smoothly made her way to the dancing area. She had to, however, slip by Mr. Holmes and the Baron first. Holmes would have probably let her go by, but the Baron had another idea.

"Ah, Mlle. Ange!" he cried as he eagerly took her arm. Although she was surprised by his move, she had no reason for averting his sudden attention. Not yet.

"Why are you not dancing, my dear?" he asked warmly. Then he turned her in the direction of Mr. Holmes. "Mr. Holmes, allow me to introduce you to this young lady as a desirable partner."

Both Holmes and Angel looked at him in surprise, and then at each other. Angelique immediately knew she had to escape. Of all the situations she could imagine finding herself in with this gentleman, this was one of the least favored.

"Please, sir," she implored, "I do not have any intention of dancing. Please don't assume I came this way to beg for a partner. I am quite all right at present."

"I would be very honored at the pleasure of dancing with you, Miss Noir," said Holmes.

This took Angel by surprise for a moment. He did not need to say that to be polite. She already knew his true opinion of her. It was almost insulting that he was trying to appear interested in her. Despite the temptation to tell him off as her initial feelings would have demanded, she politely replied, "Thank you, but I must apologize. I am not inclined to dance tonight."

"Why not, mademoiselle?" inquired the Baron. "You can see that Mr. Holmes has no objection to it, although he generally abhors the amusement so much."

"Mr. Holmes is all politeness, sir," said Angel, trying to be cheerful but still displaying her strong dislike at his offer.

"Oh, he certainly is! And who wouldn't be when they behold such beauty? Wouldn't you say so, Holmes?"

She couldn't take it anymore. The Baron's less-than-discreet hints were making her turn red, half with embarrassment, half with frustration at having to face Holmes through all of this. "I beg you to excuse me," she said quickly, then curtsied and took off into the crowd.

Although the Baron was a bit startled at this, he still managed to remain as cordial and upbeat as always. He soon left Holmes too, saying "Capital! Capital!" to everyone.

Miss Adler had been listening on the conversation without anyone else being aware of her presence. So, Holmes had actually wished to dance with the Noir girl after all. This was certainly a point of interest. Just to be sure of the situation, though, Irene decided to test him. She came up behind him and said, "I think I can guess your thoughts at this moment."

Holmes flinched ever so slightly at hearing her voice. He replied with complete calm, "I think not."

She smiled and continued, "You are thinking about how unbearable it will be to spend weeks on end in such tedious company."

"Not in the least. My mind is more agreeably engaged." Holmes could guess that Miss Adler had witnessed some of what had passed between Miss Angel and himself. He had no reason to fear what she thought, for he was sure he was in no danger. He decided to turn the tables on her.

"In fact, I've been meditating on the pleasure that only a pair of very fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can give."

Miss Adler hesitated for moment, then asked in a quieter voice, "And whose are the eyes that inspired these reflections?"

"Miss Angelique Noir's."

Irene raised her eyebrows, then peered over his shoulder at the young woman. She was not seeking the significance Holmes saw in those eyes, but she merely wished to remind herself of the poor country girl who had managed to win the cold-hearted gentleman-detective's admiration. Her only disappointment was in the fact that he was not the least bit worried about this admiration of his; there was no material to use as a teasing device at the moment. Still, the whole idea was still amusing.

"Miss Angel Noir!" she cried with a laugh. "By all astonishment!"

Then she walked away, leaving the both of them to their own thoughts. In spite of his confidence, Irene was sure she could use this admiration to goat him in some sort of way. Holmes, on the other hand, knew that all would be well and safe as long as he only let his regard for Miss Angelique reach the level of admiration, and no more.

---------------

The Noir family was eating at the breakfast table when the post arrived. Christine could not get over the match between Mr. Trevor and Charlotte. It was simply too perfect for them, she said, and it would be a great relief to them all if a marriage should in fact come out of it. Erik was growing more and more irritated at Christine's remarks on the subject. It was all she would ever talk about.

"Just remember, Erik," said Christine when Erik informed her of his opinion, "that when you die, which will very likely be soon, your wife and daughters will be cast out of this house with no form of comfort or protection. If Mr. Trevor should decide to marry Charlotte, you will be very grateful to him."

Everyone else thanked God when the servant came in with a letter for Charlotte. She just had enough time to read the envelope and tear it open when Christine began to inquire about it.

"It is from Sherriford."

"I knew it! And who sent it?"

Charlotte quickly scanned the letter. "It is from Irene Adler."

Christine hesitated for a moment. "Oh, well, that is a good sign, too. Here, give it to me."

Charlotte did not even have a chance to read it. Christine promptly swiped it out of her hands and began to read it aloud.

"_My dear Friend_ – mm-hmm! - _ Dine with Alice and me . . ._ la-de-da-de-daaa . . . la-daaa . . . _as the gentlemen are going out to dine with the officers of Colonel Dubois' regiment_. Oh, that's unlucky! Still, it will be an advantageous visit. _Yours truly, Irene Adler_. See there, we have made some progress!"

"May I have the carriage, Father?" asked Charlotte.

Erik didn't have a chance to answer. "What do you mean?" said Christine. "If you go in the carriage, you shall have to come back."

Charlotte looked at her in confusion. "What do you mean, Mother?"

"Look outside," she replied. "It is about to rain. If you go on horseback, you will have to spend the night. That would be of much more help to us than if you went and came back without seeing Mr. Trevor!"

Angel's jaw dropped. "Mother!"

"It is all for the best," she insisted. "And that is that."

Both Charlotte and Angel looked at their father. He only gave a slight shrug to them and drabbed his mouth with his napkin.

It started to rain soon after Charlotte left. Angelique and Erik were standing by the window as they watched the storm, and Christine just returned, soaking wet, from the garden.

"You see?" she said. "It is all exactly as I planned."

"Your powers are remarkable," said Erik in a half-facetious tone.

Angelique smiled. "Although I don't think you can be credited with making it rain, Mama."

----------------------

Charlotte did not return that night. The next morning a letter came from her from Sherriford. As it turned out, Charlotte had caught a very bad cold and was now quite ill. Angel shook her head as she read the letter, which stated that "she was just fine except for a cough and a headache and a high fever." It was too ridiculous to comprehend.

"Well, Christine," said Erik after the letter had been read to all, "if Charlotte should die of this fever, it will certainly be a comfort to know that it was in pursuit of Mr. Trevor, and under your orders."

"Nonsense!" Christine cried in a more defensive tone than usual. "People do not die of little trifling colds. And she will be well taken care of where she is."

Angel did not have as much confidence. She decided to speak up again. "Mama, I think it would be best if I went to Sherriford."

The rest of the family stared at her in disbelief. "Go to Sherriford? What on earth for? There's certainly nothing for you at Sherriford. Charlotte will be perfectly fine. It would be better for you to go with your sisters into Rouen and meet the officers."

"Yes, Angel, come with us!" said Lottie excitedly. "There are more than enough to go around."

"I think I should be there for Charlotte. I think she would really want me to be with her."

Erik looked at Angel and Christine, wondering if any of them were going to make another statement. When neither did, he put in, "I suppose, then, that I should take the hint and send for the carriage."

"Oh, no, Father, that's all right," said Angelique quickly. "It's only a three-mile walk. I'll be back in time for dinner."

"Are you serious?" exclaimed Christine. She still could not believe what she was hearing. "You'll be walking in dirt and mud from yesterday's storm! You won't be fit to be seen!"

"I'll be fit to see Charlotte," said Angel firmly. "I'm determined to do this, no matter what objections you may make. Charlotte needs me, and I will go see her."

Christine decided it was time to draw back. One could not persuade Angel from anything she wanted to do if she was stubborn enough.

"I have an idea," said Rose. "Lottie and I will take you as far as Rouen, and then you can continue on to Sherriford. We'll be in town for most of the day, anyway, so you can call back at _l'Auberge De l'Arbre Bleu_ on your way home."

"Yes, that's good!" said Lottie."Henri is staying there, too! Let's call on him before he is dressed. Ooh, what a shock he'll get!"

Both girls began to giggle in their silly way, then made some "ah-mmmmm" sound together, which set off more giggling. Erik leaned forward, his weight on his elbow and his forehead on his fingers. "Our life holds few distinctions, my dear," he said to Christine while massaging his head, "but I think we may safely boast that here sit two of the silliest girls in the country."

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Well, there you have it. A bit shorter than last time, but I'll make the effort to get more posts up. I have some homework to do over the vacation, though, (CURSES!) so it is a question of organizing my time (which I'm not very good at). Anyway, if I don't get my chapters up as soon as you like, please forgive me. Merry Christmas! And a Happy New Year!


	6. Over Field, Under Foot

Merry Christmas? Happy New Year? Where have I been! Oh well, I'm back and bringing you another chapter. If you have taken the time to read my updated profile, I left all of you readers a large serving of apologetic pie. So enjoy!

Okay, here we go. Must not get distracted. Ahhhhhh! Crazy plot-killing monkeys are surrounding me! Can't focus! Can't focus! Losing signal! AHHHHHHHHH . . . !

Whoa, what just happened there? Okay, to the fic.

Disclaimer: Go away.

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Chapter 4 (I guess)

Lottie and Rose wasted no time in getting their older sister out of the house and dragging her to the center of Rouen. While Angelique was willing to oblige, she quickly grew bored of their idle prating and dearly wished for something to catch their attention so they would let her go.

"Well, I suppose we shall see you later," said Rose, although she was not yet ready to release Angel's arm.

"Rose!" said Lottie, "is that not Capt. Lefevre? Quick, let's catch him!"

She seized her companion by the wrist and sped away into the town. Angelique smiled in amusement and sighed with relief as she proceeded upon her own way.

While Angelique would never deny that urban living had many advantages, she felt there was something about the country that brought about a true sense of freedom and tranquility. Yes, there were the untamed fields filled with insects and burrowing creatures ranging from rabbits to snakes, but one could grow accustomed to them after a while. When one roamed freely in the outdoors without the distraction of carriages, pedestrians, or tall buildings that blocked out the sky, there was such a feeling of exposure and bareness. Concurrently, there was also the feeling of being beyond the social order. Among the trees and the rocks and the animals, no one judged you by your class, your wealth, or your breeding. You were simply a human being trying to live out your time in this world as tolerably as anyone or anything else.

Besides the emotional and soulful peace that was granted by traveling outdoors on foot, it was also an excellent form of exercise. Angelique enjoyed the challenge of trekking over hill and gulley and testing her endurance. Of course, there was also the challenge of overcoming the dreadful mud pits that indicated what had passed the night before. One such confrontation occurred as Angel made her way over a sty with steps that led up one side and provided a drop-off on the other. In the midst of her mind's meanderings, she hadn't noticed what type of ground was in front of her. Only when her feet made contact with the ground and she heard a nauseating "squish" did she take the time to look down. Her shoes and the hem of her dress were caked with the brown moist substance. Angelique rolled her eyes at her mishap, then forcefully dragged her feet out of the hole and back onto the grass-covered terrain. She had a mind to brush off as much mud as possible while she walked, but in the end she did not find it worth a great deal of concern.

_Let those stuff-shirts think as they like. If anyone should find my state as a form of amusement, it might as well be Charlotte. The poor girl could probably use a good laugh._

Sherriford Hall finally came into view with only an oak grove between herself and the estate. By now the adventuresome girl had removed her hat and allowed her hair to become a bit loose and disheveled. To a common man, her appearance would not have been considered scandalous; to a fastidious observer, however, it might have been a different story.

Angelique could feel her heart filling with relief as she drew nearer to the mansion. She would soon be at her dear sister's side. That was all she needed. She would have been perfectly happy to miss meeting Mr. Trevor, Miss Adler, Mr. and Mrs. Musgrave, and especially . . .

Suddenly a figure stepped out from behind one of the oaks, making Angelique freeze in mid step. Seeing who the figure was did not bring reassurance, but rather deep and unsettling dread.

"Miss Noir!" exclaimed Mr. Holmes in surprise, stopping in the midst of walking as well.

Angel stiffened as he spoke. "Mr. Holmes," she replied, managing to combine grace and flatness. She curtseyed politely (merely out of obligation), then looked up at him. "I'm here to inquire after my sister."

Holmes did not say anything right away. He took a moment to look her up and down, as was his habit.

"On foot?" he asked, arching an eyebrow.

"As you can see," she answered with a slight bitterness of tone. Of course he could see that she came there on foot! What was his response to this? The trace of a smirk that was more deriding than the most humiliating insults one could ever utter. She shifted her eyes away from him for a moment, not wanting to have to stare at that expression. In spite of her detestation of it, however, she knew she had to look at him again.

"Would you be so kind as to take me to her?" She hoped this would remind him that he was, after all, a gentleman, even if he did not always want to act like one.

Even though the smirk was still there, he smoothly shifted to the side, allowing her to pass him. She did not mind giving him a subtle glare before continuing onward.

-------------

"Well, we can all assume that she is an excellent walker, I suppose," noted Mrs. Musgrave as the company of friends gathered in the dining room for mid-morning tea. "But she really looked almost wild!"

"Oh, I could hardly control myself," said Irene in a biting tone. "It is one thing to have one of them come here on horseback _in the rain_. But this is simply ridiculous! What would possess someone to go running around the countryside just because their sister has a little cold? Did you see her hair?"

"I was too captivated by her petticoat," replied her cousin. "Did you not see it, Victor? The hem was completely stained with mud; six inches of it, I'm sure."

"I'm afraid it escaped my notice," replied Trevor as he finished sipping his cup of tea. "I thought she looked remarkably well."

Irene shook her head. Her amiable cousin would hardly ever speak a cruel word about anyone, even if they appeared to have survived a blizzard. How could a young lady (or any lady for that matter) possibly look _well_ when she look as if they had rolled into a mud puddle? Still, it was no use seeking some reprimand from Trevor. He had too kind a heart. But surely the detective . . .

"What about you, Mr. Holmes?" she said to the gentleman standing by the window with his cup in hand. He made it a strange habit of standing by the window and taking in the scenery, making much of the party uncertain as to whether or not he was listening. Miss Adler, however, knew him well enough to assume that he listened more closely when his back was turned to the conversation. "You were, after all, the one who escorted her. Surely you must have observed her state?"

Holmes turned to face her. "I did," was his flat reply.

"And I am sure that you would not wish for your own sister to make such an expedition?"

"Of course not."

Irene smiled in approval. Holmes was a gentleman, after all, and such responses were expected of such a man. She decided to test him further, only this time she focused her conversation on Mrs. Musgrave. "While I do believe that every woman is entitled to some extent of free will, this girl's behavior seems to represent the symptoms of a mind afflicted with conceited independence. It is a most unbecoming feature in any female."

While Mrs. Musgrave nodded in agreement, Mr. Trevor voiced a differing opinion. "I don't believe so. Her actions display to me an affection for her sister, which I find very pleasing."

Ignoring her cousin's statement, Irene looked to Holmes again. "I'm afraid, Mr. Holmes," she continued in a sly, teasing manner, "that this escapade might have had an effect on your admiration for her _fine eyes_."

"Not at all," replied Holmes coolly before looking out the window again, "they were brightened by the exercise."

A tense silence hung over the room for a moment as Miss Adler was left without a response. Only a moment of this passed, however, before Mrs. Musgrave managed to change the subject. "But Charlotte Noir _is_ a sweet girl. It is only sad that she comes from such an unfortunate family with low connections."

"Oh, yes," said Irene, her energy renewed as she leaned toward the center of the table like a school girl spreading a nasty rumor. "She told us her uncle is in trade, and lives in . . . _Cheapside_."

"Perhaps we should call," suggested Mrs. Musgrave, "when we are next in town."

The two women laughed aloud at the shameful joke. The men, however, did not seem to find any amusement in their teases and jests. Trevor was especially annoyed. "They would be just as agreeable to me," he announced in a challenging tone, "if they had enough relatives to fill all of Cheapside!"

"With such connections, Trevor," explained Holmes as he placed his cup on the table, "they have little chance of marrying well. _That_ is the material point."

The subject had begun to irritate Holmes' nerves and he hoped that his last comment had closed the subject. Whether it had or not, however, would never be known, for no sooner had he spoken that the door leading from the foyer to the dining hall opened and Angelique entered. The gossipers quickly hushed up. Trevor immediately sprang to his feet and greeted the now tidied-up young woman. "Oh, Miss Angelique, how good of you to come to your sister's aid! Please, tell me how she is."

"I'm afraid she is quite ill, sir," replied Angel in a genuinely saddened tone.

Trevor hesitated for a moment, looking first at his cousins, then at Holmes, as if seeking for some gesture of approval for a request that he would not speak. Then, making up his own mind, he looked back at Angel and said, "I shall send for your things at once. You must stay until your sister has recovered."

Angel's eyes widened in surprise, then looked away a bit in embarrassment. "Oh, no, I wouldn't wish to impose upon you. I told my family I would be back by this evening."

"I implore you to stay, Miss Noir. I believe very firmly that your sister's recovery will be expedited by your presence. I shall have my servants go for your belongings."

Knowing that she would not be able to sway him (and that deep down she wished to stay by Charlotte's side), she smiled congenially and answered, "You are very kind, sir. Thank you."

A feeling of apprehension seemed to worm its way into the pit of Holmes' stomach. Observing her at a distance at balls and parties was one matter; by the end of the evening they would each return to their separate homes and he would not have think of her until the next party or ball. But having her stay in Trevor's house? That was bordering on treachery. Holmes had been determined that Angelique would always be kept at a safe proximity. She would mean no more to him than a figure of admiration. Staying under the same roof for an extended period of time threatened that harmony of reason and emotion that was always in danger of being upset.

As Holmes reflected on this, Mr. Musgrave spoke up for the first time. "Is there to be any sport today, or not?"

Although the announcement was a bit sudden and unwarranted, it was nearly a Godsend for the gentleman-detective. After a moment's hesitation, he looked to Trevor. Trevor looked at Holmes, then to Angel, then to Mr. Musgrave, then to Holmes again. Finally, he replied, "I shall send for Miss Noir's clothes, then we shall go out."

The anxiety that had begun to build up within Holmes quickly died down. There, that was all there was to it. There would be plenty of distractions for the both of them. Angel would be in her sister's bedroom for most of the day, he would be out either riding or hunting. That only left the evening. There would at least be the other members of the household for distraction as well.

As the gentlemen left the room to gather their gear, Holmes assured himself, _They will both be gone in a few days. It cannot last longer than that. I must simply be more careful around her for the time being. Then she will be gone, and all shall be as it was before._

Oh, if only he had had more faith in his own words.

----------------

Angelique sat by the window, fiddling with the chain on her neck. She used to wear her birthstone ring on it when she was younger. Her father had given her the golden band with her engraved initials for her twelfth birthday, but her fingers had been too small to wear it. So she kept it around her neck until her sixteenth or seventeenth birthday when she could wear it properly. Even though she did not need the chain anymore, she still felt it was a part of the ring, and therefore could not bear to part with it. After all, if she married one day, she would have to wear her husband's ring, meaning her father's would very likely be returned to its original place.

As she wrapped the thin chain of gold around her fore finger, she listened to the loud random gunshots echoing over the grounds as the gentlemen enjoyed their sport. At least men had various occupations to engage them from day to day and divert their attention from the less pleasant aspects of life. Women were meant for nursing and tending to others in their time of need. Just as these gentlemen were able to amuse themselves with hunting birds, Angelique was tending to Charlotte. It was not as if she did not want to be with Charlotte, for she would have preferred that she tend to her sister than someone else. Still, how often were men obliged to sit by someone's bedside and bring them food and drink?

However, Angel did not want to be unfair by using this as proof that men preferred not to worry themselves about the less fortunate. After all, was not Mr. Trevor concerned about Charlotte as well? He seemed almost as happy as Christine at her being there. Angel looked over at Charlotte while smiling at this thought. The latter was still too exhausted to move about, but she did manage to give a small smile in return without really knowing why.

_Don't worry, Charlotte_, thought Angel, _I promise you will be well soon. _

Shortly after the gentlemen returned, Angelique prepared herself for the evening. She knew it would be rude to keep herself locked away without informing the host on Charlotte's condition. Of course, Mr. Trevor seemed to be the only one who was truly concerned about Charlotte's condition.

As Angelique got dressed, she and Charlotte fell into a more talkative mood, and they began to discuss what had occurred at the house when the family learned of the elder sister's illness and all that occurred to the younger one onwards. Angel had selected a red silk dress with a pattern of black long-stemmed roses, a black satin sash at the waist and elbow-length sleeves. Instead of keeping her hair up in the usual floppy bun, she twisted it along the sides of her head and tied it into a ponytail with a wide black ribbon. When she was finished, she presented herself to Charlotte.

"There," she said with a teasing smile. "Do you think I shall disgrace you? For I know my own beauty will never compensate for the loss of yours in any social gathering."

Charlotte shook her head. "No, do not say that. You are very pretty in and of your own, and you are well aware of it."

Angelique sighed wistfully as she sat at the foot of the bed. "Oh, Charlotte, I would rather stay here with you. If propriety had its own way, our superiority in sisterhood would require us to be miles away. But your Mr. Trevor would never stand for it; he is far too civil and attentive to let it be so."

"He's not _my_ Mr. Trevor, Angel," insisted Charlotte, although Angel could see in her eyes that she wished it was so.

"I think he is," she answered, then she learned forward and added, "Or at least he will be very soon."

After bidding her sister farewell for the night (since there was the possibility that Charlotte would already be asleep before she retired), Angelique descended the lavish staircase and began to look around for everyone else. Usually, in her own house, it was quite easy to find where everyone was: simply listen for any loud conversation. But this house seemed to be as silent as the grave. If it had not been so well lit, Angel might have been convinced that it was abandoned. Angelique decided that the best thing to do was to look for the drawing room, since that was the most likely room a group of people would gather in the evening. But without any sort of sound for a guide, it would take her a while to find it.

After looking around for a minute or so, she almost ran into one of Mr. Trevor's servants. "I believe you will find Mr. Trevor in the drawing room, ma'am," he said monotonously.

"Thank you," she answered. She was about to ask him where that room was located, but he scurried off before she could even open her mouth. Releasing a small huff of annoyance, she continued on her way. To her luck, a sound finally did come to her ears. It was the sound of two pool balls knocking into one another. But did that mean that Mr. Trevor was in the pool hall and not the drawing room as the servant had originally informed her?

_Well, only one way of finding out._

Angelique followed the sound of pool balls all the way to the very door that led into the pool hall. Not thinking of any reason to hesitate, she casually walked in expecting the entire group to be there.

Unfortunately, it was not so. The only one there to greet was Mr. Holmes.

Angelique took a step back. _Why? Why do these things keep happening to me?_

Neither person spoke a word. Holmes acknowledged her presence by postponing his next shot and making a slight bow. Angelique simply stared at him for a minute, not sure of what she should do. She certainly did not want to go into the room with him as the only occupant. Should she return his bow with a curtsey? Should she even say anything to him? Should she ask him where the drawing room was?

The pair continued to stare at each other. Then, at last, without a word or gesture, Angel turned tail and left of the room.

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Okay, okay, so I'm a little rusty in my writing. Don't worry, I'll get back on track somehow. (_Somehow_ being the operative word.) Anyway, keep a heads up for more updates. They won't come in at light speed, but I'll do the best I can. That's the end of my speech. See ya soon!


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